


I'll Be Yours

by herosterek



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Broody Derek, Comfort, Fluff, Humor, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-05
Updated: 2014-12-05
Packaged: 2018-02-28 05:50:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,038
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2721122
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/herosterek/pseuds/herosterek
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Everyone is looking at him, Lydia by the jukebox, Kira next to the punch, Jordan standing with the Sheriff at the barbeque, Scott lounging in the lawn chairs next to some deputies. He fakes a smile and everyone readily sags with relief. One by one they come up and hug him, give him encouraging words. The rest of the night goes okay since Stiles doesn’t leave his side the whole time. He once even twined his fingers with Derek’s own, his thumb brushing comforting circles on the back of Derek’s hand.</p><p>He’s glad he came, if only for that.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I'll Be Yours

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guys!!! Who wants some fluffy stuff? I needed some fluffy stuff :D I hope you enjoy it! Cuddles for you.

"Derek?" A voice calls.

It's Stiles. Derek would be able to recognize the grounding thump of his heartbeat anywhere. Although, it's only seven in the morning, so Derek buries himself further into the covers, keeping his head out so he can watch the bedroom door.

There's a rattling in the kitchen, and the sound of the coffeemaker brewing a fresh pot echoes through the loft. Derek can hear the sleepy shuffle of Stiles' feet along the creaky floorboards towards his bedroom. He knocks gently on the door before prying it open so that he can peek his head through.

"I have coffee?"

Derek grunts at the domesticity of the gesture. A mix of emotions fly across Stiles' face, too quick to scent what he’s feeling. Derek tampers his yearning of having Stiles in his home. He brings his knees up so that he can curl into a ball, wrapping the sheets completely around himself, no longer visible to the outside world.

"Hey, big guy," Stiles says, settling onto the foot of the bed, "we can't lie around and mope all day." 

Stiles' hand slides around the bone of his ankle, shaking it slightly. 

"Go _away_ ," Derek huffs indignantly, trying to release Stiles' hold on him. 

"Really. You're going to skip out on coffee?" 

 "Stiles," Derek growls out from under the covers. 

 "Okay dude, don't get grouchy. I'm just going to set this coffee down on the bedside table, and then I'll leave you alone like you want to be."

 The thing is, Derek doesn't want to be alone either.

 Derek hears the cup being placed on the bedside drawer, before a hand attempts to wrench the sheets from where they're tucked underneath him.

 "Derek, let  _go_ ," Stiles grits out, "stop being such a  _sour wolf_."

 Stiles can tug on them all he wants but he'll never win. Derek waits until Stiles is pulling really hard on them to release his grip, sending him tumbling down to the floor, sheets in hand, with an  _oof_  and an  _ouch_ _._ It’s amusing.

 Derek peers over the edge of the bed, his lips quirk with a smile as he stares at the mess of limbs poking out beneath the bed spread. Stiles fumbles around trying to get the material off of his head, making Derek chuckle at his idiocy.

 Stiles freezes.

 "Did I just make you-"

 "Nope."

 "But I heard you-"

 "You're imagining things."

 Stiles sighs with a groan, his head finally untangling from the mess of the sheets. His brown hair is sticking up every which way, presumably from the static. Derek leans back onto the bed, throws his pillow over his face when Stiles comes up to stand over him.

 "Derek."

 "Stiles," he mumbles back through the thick of the pillow.

 " _D_ _erek_ ," Stiles whines. The way his name rolls off Stiles' tongue sends shivers down to his feet, and oh god it is not good. Especially when he's wearing nothing but sweatpants. 

 Stiles starts shoving at Derek's side, hands connecting with the skin of his bare torso. The pillow is being tugged away from his face now and it almost slips out of his grasp, but he pulls back hard. Derek had figured after the first time, Stiles would learn to release his grip, but no, instead he topples straight onto Derek. 

Derek throws the pillow down, giving Stiles a hard glare when he leans up. Stiles pushes up from Derek's body, the palms of his hands dig into the muscle of Derek's shoulders. He's also wearing an adorable pout – although Derek would loathe to admit. They're close, really close. Close enough that Derek can count each of Stiles' eyelashes every time they flutter shut. Close enough to map out the constellation of moles that dot Stiles' cheeks. Close enough to kiss. 

 Derek can feel the line of heat disappear from where they're touching as Stiles clambers away, adjusting his wrinkled plaid shirt, and then dusting off the imaginary lint on his trousers before clearing his throat.

"Ahem, so I'll uh, be going now," Stiles drawls, heart jack hammering against his ribs.

He's pointing towards the front of the loft with the swing of his thumb over the shoulder. Except that Stiles doesn't move from the spot beside the edge of the bed.

Derek clears his throat, so Stiles starts inching towards the door, and when he's about to step through the gap-

"Wait."

Derek tries really hard to repress the smile that comes with Stiles flailing to turn around.

"Yeah?" Stiles replies, a small smile playing on his lips.

"Did you clone my keys using that stupid RFID emulator?"

Stiles' jaw drops, the rosy flush drains from his face.

"N-no."  

Derek rolls his eyes, turning to lay on his side. 

"Goodbye, Stiles."

The door shuts and seconds later the thunk of the loft's lock falls into place. Derek's back to being alone, not before hearing whispers of 'stupid broody werewolves' and 'walking lie detectors' outside.

*

 "Come on, you goober."

 Stiles has brought Scott along with him this time, although he keeps giving Derek these dismal looks paired with an eye roll, which, Derek thinks, is a trait that he keeps rubbing off onto everyone.

 "It's _Lydia's_ party!" Stiles sings, "No one in their right mind would miss one of those, right Scotty?"

 "Yes, Stiles, you're right," Scott says, sounding as if he'd rather be anywhere else other than here. 

 Derek doesn't blame him, he hasn't left the loft for the past month except for food which he buys outside of Beacon Hills. Since the ordeal with the berserkers and Kate, he just doesn’t want to deal with anything right now.

 His 'pack' is twiddling down to dangerous numbers again, but he still feels a gaping loss - Boyd, Erica, and Isaac, even _Allison_.

 "Derek, can you just listen for once?" Stiles voice snaps him out of his thoughts. For the first time since Stiles has come to visit, Derek can feel the anger seep from him, fists clenched tight, eyebrows furrowed.

 "I have visited you every single week at least three times. For the past month! A whole month, Derek. Now you can just sit around on your ass all day, and watch stupid animal documentaries - which, your choice in television makes me weeps, what happened to The Walking Dead? - not my point. The point is, that you can either skulk by yourself, or you can be with pack, pack that needs you Derek. I need- We need you back okay?"

 It's just he and Stiles standing in the open space, Scott had walked out during the spiel.

 "Stiles, I _can't_. Don't you get that?"

 "No, Derek, I _really_ don’t get it. You don't get to decide what other people feel. You may think that no one else wants to see you, but do you really wanna know the truth? The truth is Derek, that I think you're a self-deprecating bastard. You know why? Because the people that need you the most, they don't have you anymore. So you don't get to play the pathetic sympathy act." Stiles points a stern finger right in Derek's face. “You’ve done it once and you can’t do it again.”

 It’s a low blow but Derek probably deserves it.

 "I'll see you at Lydia's." Stiles finishes, storming out the door and slamming it shut. 

 Derek can hear quips of 'can you believe him?' and 'what the hell is wrong with that jerk?' as the two boys walk down the stairs. Derek is standing there speechless, frown deep and arms crossed. He would ignore what Stiles just said, if it weren't for the fact that everything yelled in his face was completely true. He's been pushing everyone away, again.

 *

 "Big guy! You made it!" Stiles claps him on the back, pulls him into a warm hug.

 Even though his demeanour has completely done a one-eighty degree flip, it's good to see the guy smile at him. Derek grunts, not bothering with a normal reply. 

 Stiles has that soft smile, the one that Derek wants reserved for himself. Reserved for late nights, early mornings and the in between. He wants it for when they’re alone, smiling like the stupid love sick birds they are. But that’s just whimsical relief.

 Derek pulls away when Stiles’ grip loosens, trying not to cling on for dear life. _Jesus_ , what is he doing here?

 Everyone is looking at him, Lydia by the jukebox, Kira next to the punch, Jordan standing with the Sheriff at the barbeque, Scott lounging in the lawn chairs next to some deputies. He fakes a smile and everyone readily sags with relief. One by one they come up and hug him, give him encouraging words. The rest of the night goes okay since Stiles doesn’t leave his side the whole time. He once even twined his fingers with Derek’s own, his thumb brushing comforting circles on the back of Derek’s hand.

 He’s glad he came, if only for that.

 *

 It comes so quickly one day that Derek doesn’t even know where it came from.

 Stiles has collapsed on the couch in the loft, snoring softly with his limbs askew. Derek’s making lunch. So what if he wants to impress a certain someone? His pack has taught him that he deserves a little bit more credit otherwise. Plus, brownie points for Stiles.

_Thud._

 “Fuck, stupid werewolves and their stupid couches,” Stiles yells out from behind the furniture.

 It makes Derek smirk.

 “You want something to eat?” Derek asks, getting the last of the food together before setting two plates down on the kitchen table.

 Stiles’ head pops up from behind the couch, and dammit he looks so adorable, stupid pouty lips, hair mussed from rubbing his head from where he must’ve landed. It’s no surprise though, that in two seconds flat that he makes his way to the kitchen, teeth sparkling in display.

 Lunch goes well, if the sounds Stiles makes after every mouthful are anything to go by. Derek wants to see if he can make those sounds come from him in a different way, possibly in the bedroom. Or just whenever they are alone, he doesn’t mind if it’s in the kitchen, on top of the counter, in the hallway. Really, he’s not _fussy_.

 And after lunch, Derek’s feeling content, full from lunch, with Stiles essentially pressed on top of him while they watch whatever Star Wars movie they’re up to now. He’d never thought that Stiles would fall asleep during any of the series, but with his head settled against Derek’s shoulder and his mouth slightly agape, it makes an overwhelming feeling of joy wash over him. If he deserves Stiles laying here next to him, then he must be doing something right.

 It really shouldn’t surprise Derek that he wakes up when he falls off the couch. The thing is, Stiles is still in his arms, squishing him into the floor, also blinking awake.

 Shiny-eyed, chapped lip, morning breath Stiles. Who eventually erupts into a stream laughter.

 “What, what is it?” Derek asks cautiously, he probably has food on his face from yesterday or something.

 Once Stiles has settled down, still a solid weight on top of Derek, he smiles, soft, the reserved one.

 “Are you happy?”

 Derek nods. It’s gentle, and chaste, but it’s everything Derek’s ever wanted. The soft seal of Stiles’ mouth on his, the not-so-planned quick press of lips before he pulls back. And he hadn’t even noticed that his eyes fluttered shut, opening them to find the guy of his dreams blinding him with a smile so wide that it looks like it might become permanent.

 “I’m happy.”

 Another soft, yet so painstakingly brilliant kiss.

 When Derek's lungs start to burn, he pulls away, puffing out breaths of air into the crook of Stiles' neck. When he looks up into Stiles eyes, he sees the world. When he looks at Stiles' lips they’re kiss swollen red. When he looks at Stiles, all he can think is the fact that he’s gotten him. The guy with the turned up nose, flushed cheeks, and mouth rubbed raw from stubble.

 It’s never going to be perfect and he may not deserve this, but with Stiles, it’s damn well close enough.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Come say hi on my [Tumblr :)](http://toosterek.tumblr.com/)


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